“Makes sense. Sorry about all this. Um, what about the hundred men you have locked up? People are still worried there.”
Tor shrugged.
“It's only a magic shield made opaque, since I'm not important enough to treat as a real person, how about they figure it out for themselves? That seems just, doesn't it? If my job, my very being, is so useless and unimportant I can be humiliated and nearly killed, mistreated and abused, I'm sure they won't have any problem fixing things for themselves from now on. All they have to do it remind the door where it was. Kind of surprised no one has gotten out yet. I didn't make it insanely hard or anything, it's really simple. Little kids would be out already. Maybe they're mentally handicapped? Only a person like that would be out already too, most likely. Is there more water?”
There was and it was cool. Bless Ursala, she'd brought one of his old mugs with cooling and heating devices built in. He had to drink four more before he felt able to stand. It was dark, but time wise that was all he had. Dark something O'clock.
They probably had until morning to figure it out before the guards would die. Maybe longer, they wouldn't get that hot. The houses weren't designed to work like ovens. They got warm, but it wasn't death temperature. Rolph didn't like that answer, so he went to tell his dad, who told Smythe. That would probably get Smythe to try and kill him. So Tor tried to hit his shield.
Nothing happened. counting what was around his neck he realized it had been taken. So had his weapon. Well, he'd been acting crazy. He didn't remember it all, but enough to guess it involved a lot of falling down and acting stupid. Great, more things to be embarrassed about.
Tor got up and walked back to his trunk, wondering for the first time in his life if magic was just more trouble than it was worth? Every time he made something to help people, or even try to protect himself, it seemed to backfire on him eventually. Plus, everyone seemed to pretend to be his friend or at least that he was OK, until something like this happens and then they suddenly acted like it was it's fine to treat him like garbage. No one even bothered to pay attention to what he was really doing most of the time, as long as it served them somehow.
Like right now.
“You've all, the nobles at least, grown up using magic. You can't figure out how to simply turn a device off?” Tor stared, a bit baffled. Wasn't it just obvious? “Really? Come on people! It's just a magic device… I didn't change it into something else for goodness sake. It’s a house not a prison.”
The King looked upset, probably with him, but if so, screw him. Holly was looking down at the ground, kicking at it. The other Counts all looked either angry or like they'd rather have been sleeping, which sounded like a good idea at the moment. A really good one in fact.
Opening up the first trunk he came to, a real one, not a field made to look real, Tor rearmed and shielded. It wasn't as good of a weapon, but he had the ones built into his shorts, as funny as that was. Just, from now on he wasn't letting anyone take him prisoner and if they tried he was fighting. To the death if it came to that. He looked at the King and didn't break eye contact.
“I mean it too. If you want me to do something, ask and I'll do it. Stand down and go live in the desert alone? Fine. Take a cutter to my neck and behead myself. Sure. But if anyone, King, Count or city guard tries to take me prisoner, I'll fight as hard as I can, until I can't any more. Because really, this stuff is getting old. I get treated like this and then you people come along and act like I'm the bad guy? Smythe tries to kill me over and again, I get snubbed and pushed around by Royal Guards almost as if it were a game to them and now the city guard personally turns me into their enemy? Fine…”
Tor stomped over to one of the Counts he didn't recognize and stopped in front of him, hands on hips. He was an older man, not as big as some, about six-six. He had on a black military style uniform, but no insignia at all. Most of the Counts had taken to wearing them, a kind of protective coloring, to make them less of a target than brightly colored flashy clothing would. The man held his ground but didn't look as confident as Counts normally did, as if he expected Tor to assault him or something. So did everyone else, but not even the Royal Guard tried to intervene.
“You, who are you?” Tor asked in a tone probably better left unused with royalty in general. It was stupid of him, but he just didn't care right now.
“Um, Count Holstead…”
Oh. “The one that thinks humiliating me is a joke? A good time fun fest for all? Well, even ticked off I can tell it probably is funny, if you weren't the one embarrassed in public all day long like that, beaten and abused. So tell you what, let's just leave it all up to Holstead here…” Tor spun to take in everyone else.
The King looked stony, but he often did, it was his go to facial expression in any given emergency. Rolph buried his head in his hands and groaned.
“No… Tor. Let's go and get you cooled down, get some food and water, then sleep and do this in the morning? If you want then we can take turns beating the guards, or even Holstead here. I mean, I know that you felt humiliated and shamed by being left mainly naked all day, but no one else cared. Not the guards, not the people with you and not the passersby. Really, they probably thought you were being given special privileges and not being made to bake in clothes like the others were… We don't care if people are nude here. Hey, want me to strip and run around the city? No one would think it anything more than youthful exuberance and I might get a date out of it.” He tried to look calm, which didn’t work too well. Right, because he saw what Tor was about to do.
Rolph was smart like that.
“Tell me, Count Holstead, what would you do if this… No, wait, not what happened to me, no one cares about that… What would you do if what happened to Count Ward, or Counselor Smythe happened to you instead? How would you respond?”
The King saw the trap and sucked in a breath of air. Ursala got it too. After all, what most of the Counts would do involved making war on someone, possibly leading the other Counts to attack the King’s forces. And Smythe was still the military leader of the kingdom. If he wanted, he could bring down the whole thing by himself, most likely. The city guard had almost certainly started a war that day already.
Rolph walked to Tor slowly, but didn't try to touch him or anything stupid like that.
Holstead, for all that he had a poor sense of timing and a loud voice, didn't hesitate though. He walked to the other men and sank to his knees in front of them, laying his head on the ground.
“It was a mistake. I can only ask forgiveness for my part in it. Please, if you must blame someone for this, blame me and not those I serve…” He didn't rise and the two men didn't move to release him.
Soon the others moved over, with Ursala and Holly being the last. They moved grudgingly, but that was kind of natural. After all, Holly still probably blamed Ward for killing her husband even though he hadn't. She'd taken a vow to destroy him and now had to break it, that or destroy an innocent man that had been used by their enemies, and kill a lot of his people, all of whom were probably at least as innocent of the crime. It was a quandary no doubt. They did it though. Bent the knee, if not as deeply as the rest. The one thing didn't have to do with the other directly and war was always a losing game, for all they liked to threaten it so freely here.
Rolph didn't go to a knee, but did bow and finally the King did too. It was all very polite and touching. Smythe demanded an investigation into the matter, which was allowed, the King making it an actual order without pause. Ward just nodded stiffly and waved a hand at everyone else that had been out there as well. That…
That made the Counts and countesses wary and recalcitrant suddenly. Tor blinked for a moment, taking in the sea of angry faces.
Right. Never bow to a stable boy.
Rolph did it for them, regally, majestically even, as if he suddenly wore a crown on his head and full raiment’s, walking to each and bowing in turn, shaking hands when one was offered him and smoothing things over. Promising it hadn't been on purpose and apologizing as if that would make any real difference to the world. After a minute Ursala started doing the same thing. Well, if she was going to be Queen some day, she might as well start following her future King’s lead now. Even if she wasn't, it made her look good.
The other royals didn't move, which Tor kind of thought was cowardly of them. The heir to the freaking throne of all Noram was bowing and humbling himself for them, but they were too good to step forward themselves and even mumble a few words to people that had been so wronged?
Sure, most of these guys brought people drinks or food, one or two may even be real stable boys, and though he wasn't sure, some of the few women might even have been dancing girls from the party, still wearing their white dresses, dirt stained and grubby from their ordeals. They might even be whores.
